


Chloe Decker in Ecstasy

by Anonymous



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Addiction, Angst, Angst and Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Baroque sculpture, Celestial Bonds, Celestial Sex Magic, Celestial Vows, Chloe Decker Needs A Hug, Deputy of Hell, Devoted Deckerstar, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, Established Relationship, F/M, Feathers & Featherplay, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Improvised Sex Toys, Inspired by Baroque artwork, Lucifer Morningstar really should be told these things in advance!, Magic Becomes Curse, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Rituals, Mutual Masturbation, Non-Penetrative Sex Toys, Oral Sex, Penetration by Feathers, Sex Addiction sort of, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Smut, The Smut drives the Plot, The Smut is also Plot, Unintended Consequences, Using a Feather as a Toy, Vaginal Sex, Wing Grooming, Wing Humping, Wing Kink, accidental magic, angst and healing, smut with plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Loving and dating a Celestial as a human mortal has always been complicated, at best. But somehow, Lucifer Morningstar and Chloe Decker made things work. They sorted through their issues, learned to confront problems head-on, mastered talking about difficult subjects, and learned to bring a professional into the picture when things got really touchy between them.The pair had finally seemed to reach a point of stability and happiness, when all of a sudden, a mishap in the bedroom upsets their relationship. Intimacy has never had such high stakes, or such supernatural consequences, and its going to take quite the helping of bravery and honesty to set things right again.Inspired by Bernini's "Saint Teresa of Avila in Ecstasy".
Relationships: Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 29
Kudos: 194
Collections: anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: Full disclosure up front – this is an egregiously smutty smut fic. The plot is driven by smut, most of the plot _is_ smut, and other similarly dirty things happen, akin to smut.

That is literally the whole point of this fic.

Cool? Okay, moving on.

This fan-fic is me using my Art History knowledge I gained this semester for good...or evil – depending on which you think Art History is. Let me tell you, Baroque art was wild, came in a broad range of styles, and was surprisingly suggestive at times.

This fic was initially inspired by one such innuendo-riddled Baroque sculptures, and the thought, “What if I made that, but Deckerstar?”

So, without further ado, let's jump right in.

_~i~_

Light and warmth. Soft breathing that murmured against her neck. A smile graced Chloe's lips.

Mornings had once solely meant strong coffee, taking Trixie to school, the beginning of a hard day's work solving cases and bringing criminals to justice. Purposeful, certainly, but lacking in soul.

Now there was something more. There was joy in languid mornings again.

Her angel cradled her in his strong, sturdy arms, one crossing her body to grasp her shoulder, warming her naked breasts, the other hooked around her bare hip as she half lay across his torso. Chloe savored the sensation of feeling so safe, so sheltered and treasured, breathing it deep into her lungs. He grumbled in his sleep. His thumb circling her hip bone was plenty indication of his stirring.

She opened her eyes, studying every handsome, sharp angle of his features, admiring the soft lines and sweetness to the sweep of his eyelashes, the tousled quality to his morning curls.

The smile that turned his mouth upon blinking his bronze eyes open was equally gentle.

“Good morning, Detective,” Lucifer whispered, husky and sleepy. He pressed closer for a kiss and she met him halfway, heart _thumping_ blissfully.

“Good morning,” she breathing, cuddling against him, pulling a breathy giggle out of him when she nuzzled his nose.

“Sleep well?” he asked, pulling her in for hug, which she happily accepted.

“Pretty much always when I'm with you.” She melted into his body heat, feeling golden, light, incandescent.

“Not poking you am I?” he asked, mildly, a lilt of teasing slipping into his tone. Her brow furrowed before she realized what he meant.

“I hadn't noticed your morning wood, actually. But no, sweetheart. You're good.”

“Lovely,” he chuckled, snuggling against her neck, affectionately. She jerked in surprise.

“Don't. You. Dare.”

He flipped them and attacked her neck, her sides, her belly, with fingers and lips, until she was crying with laughter. But his smile was elated and kind when he let up after a few moments.

Not even Chloe smacking his shoulder hard could stop his grin.

“You're despicable.” He pouted.

“For adoring your laugh and trying to coax it out of you, Detective? That's a low blow, at best.”

“I _will_ get you back for this.” His brown eyes were flecked by the golden sunlight, transforming them into pools of melted caramel. A familiar rush of warmth settled low in Chloe's belly at the sight.

“Punishing the Devil. Only you could get away with it, Chloe,” he purred, kissing her deeply.

The warm flicker was swept up by his soft breath against her lips, and exploded into a wildfire.

Her hand snaked between their bodies and seized his stiff member, hard. He jumped in surprise and gasped.

“Chloe-” She spread the pooling liquid at his tip down his shaft in long, firm strokes and he shuddered, dropping nearly flush against her when his arms turned weak. Still, he insisted on finishing his thought.

“Using sex – as a punishment – isn't healthy – Chloe...don't you remember – Linda – _fuck_ – telling us?”

She remembered well. They'd been going to couples therapy on occasion, primarily to help Lucifer. For a Celestial who wielded desire like a super power, he had difficulty voicing his own wants.

But the roaring heat in Chloe's gut distracted her from clearly recalling the thought-stopping techniques, and safe-space affirmations, and confidence-building reinforcement exercises.

“Who said this was a punishment? I just want you...” she said, easily, perfectly honest.

Lucifer caught the look of sincerity in her eyes instantly and groaned, bent double with pleasure.

“Oh, good...because I was craving you for breakfast, love...” he gasped.

She attacked his mouth with wet, sloppy kisses, sitting up.

“ _Mmph –_ me too!” she exclaimed, breathing morphing into panting.

Her hand continued its assault, strokes hard and at a decent clip, making the Devil short of breath. He pulled his into his lap, her legs adjusting to straddle him, and he took the moment to seek out her heated, soaked center and rub luscious, generous circles there.

“ _Lucifer!_ ” Chloe cried, leaning into his touch, losing control of her pace on his member. He removed her hand from his length and tugged her closer, directing her hand to his shoulder instead.

“Your turn, love. Let me worship you...”

She had half a mind to protest, and then that mind flew out the window. Her hands scrabbled and grasped at his shoulders, his back, as he persistently circled her little bud, making her nerves sing with pleasure. Chloe buried her face in shoulder and held on for dear life as his expert fingers entered her, stroking away at her G-spot as his thumb tended to that tiny bundle of nerves.

She was incoherent, moaning and gasping.

“Tell me when you're close, darling,” he said huskily, just as elated by her pleasure as he'd been by his own.

“ _Oh – oh my ghha!!_ ” she exclaimed, walls beginning to tremble. Her fingers dug into his spine, right between his shoulder blades. “ _Stop, I'm about to-_ ”

The fast pumping and circling slowed down to gentle strokes, eventually stopping. Chloe relaxed, catching a bit of her breath and retreating from the pleasure-high. Lucifer was smiling, adoration in every line of his face when she opened her eyes.

“We really ought to come up with an alternative to my Father's name that you can shout at liberty when we make love. I don't want you to have to focus so much on watching your words in the midst of rapture, Detective...” he said, smiling and happy.

She was only half listening to his words.

“Angel...” she murmured, subconscious. His grin brightened slightly.

“'Oh my angel?' Well...if you're comfortable with it...though I thought one of your primary goals was to reign in my narcissism, Chl-”

She was snorted, shaking her head.

“No! No, I just meant – your wings...”

Lucifer whipped his head left and right.

“Huh...right you are,” he muttered, puzzled that his wings had unfurled out all of a sudden. She hadn't even been pleasuring him – an act that sometimes made them pop out like a hard-on. “That is odd...that normally doesn't-”

Chloe, having a thought, experimentally dug her fingers into the same spot between his shoulder blades that she'd pressed in the throws of pleasure.

Lucifer's wings gave a simultaneous heave – not quite a flap, thankfully, otherwise they might have both smacked into the ceiling – but a noticeable jerk.

“Oh...” they murmured as one, smiling.

Their grins grew into chuckles as leaning into each other, chortling, cuddling, melting. Lucifer pecked her forehead.

“Well, that explains it. I'll just tuck them away-”

“ _No!_ ”

He seemed positively bewildered, and she froze, anxious. Chloe knew that Lucifer's feelings about his wings were complicated at best.

She back-peddled.

“I'm sorry – no, o-of course you can put them away-”

“But you don't want me to.” Lucifer was squinting at her, but there was no anger or hurt behind the expression, only curiosity. She decided honesty couldn't hurt.

“Lucifer, I want you to be comfortable. I know you didn't like them in the past – hated them, even.”

A small smile of understanding bloomed, and he shook his head.

“Misplaced anger for my Father, love. My feelings got about them got complicated because they represented a part of my divinity I thought I shouldn't want, or shouldn't have...maybe didn't deserve to have...” His voice grew somber.

Her hand cupped his cheek, sympathetically stroking his cheek bones. He treasured the touch, and the twinge of cool sadness melted away.

“But, no longer,” he said with a shrug “They're just my wings. And they're bloody useful in tough spots too.”

“So you don't hate them?” Chloe asked, cautious, hesitant. Lucifer shook his head.

“No.” He smiled. “Frankly, in terms of what they represent, how they came about this time around...there's a lot to like about them, actually.”

She blushed, curled against him and he chuckled with mirth. When they represented her belief in his goodness, his love for himself, he meant. And she was so happy for him, that he finally felt that way after so long in the dark...

“I'll leave them out if you like them so much. But I warn you, there's no telling what might happen if I get too eager,” he said, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“I can handle a bit of acrobatic love-making,” Chloe murmured, making him _beam_. “So long as you're comfortable with them.” He nodded into her neck.

“Truly, I have no grievances.”

She took in every inch of them. In the golden light of morning, they were pearlescent, gorgeously painted with subtle hues of pink and gold and silver. They were huge as well, intimidating in their scope, but they seemed so soft and gentle, as well as strong.

They suited him so perfectly.

She ached to touch them, run her fingers through the downy fluff and see for herself if they were really as soft as she thought they'd be.

“They're so beautiful, sweetheart...” Chloe breathed, only biting her tongue after the words had burst from her mouth.

He rapturously kissed her neck and she moaned.

“ _You're_ beautiful, Chloe,” he breathed, smitten and heated. “Always so caring – you needn't fear a thing, my dear. I'd do anything for you, you exquisite creature...”

“Can I touch them?” she blurted out, uninhibited by her lust. His huff of breath could have been a weak laugh, or a lusty gasp.

But it wasn't fearful or angry.

“Yes, of course, Chloe.”

Her fingers shook as they curled around his back again. Delicately, she ran her fingers down the the feathers closest to where they joined his back. He kissed her deeply, showing, rather than telling her, that everything was okay. The way his tongue lapped at her made her thighs clench together in want.

“You needn't be that gentle, Chloe. You won't rip out any feathers that aren't already on their way out...” Lucifer muttered, laying her down desirously.

“You're giving me permission...to pet your wings?” she panted. He licked a firm stripe up her neck and she keened.

“What's mine is yours, Detective. I trust you completely.”

So her fingers searched. They petted and carded through, confident but gentle. It was like running her fingers through moisture-less clouds, softer than the softness cotton, almost buttery with their plushness.

He kissed her neck, humming happily.

“Lovely...” His cheeky fingers found their way to her heated center against and stroked her pearl. She cried out. “Just checking, love.” He gave himself a few tentative pumps and then aligned their bodies. Lucifer lifted himself up a bit on his forearms, lips starting to form a familiar question.

“Yes.” Chloe murmured, before he could ask.

Then her fingers brushed over something unexpectedly fleshy and warm at his wing joint, something slippery coated her fingers, and Lucifer threw back his head and groaned. Her walls guttered in response, the sound was so deep and primal it went straight to her core.

Though he didn't seem hurt, her hands still darted away.

“What – what happened?!” His eyes were black with arousal when they opened again.

“I'll be damned...I'd nearly forgotten...” Chloe pulled her hand closer to her face to observe the wet something on her fingers. It felt oily, odorless, but not sticky or unpleasant, she supposed.

Lucifer chuckled and explained.

“For better or worse, my Father has a bizarre, twisted sense of humor. We were some of the first things he made, so when he decided to create birds, he took a page from one of his oldest designs.” He said, rolling his eyes.

Meanwhile, Chloe's jaw was on the floor.

“You're kidding – _birds_ were designed based on-”

“Based on yours truly,” he said, wings hoisted, feathers spread out like banners, pea-cocking. She raised a sarcastic eyebrow. “And my, uh, siblings too, of course,” he coughed, continuing.

“Angel's wings, when it comes to maintenance then, are...shockingly bird like,” he said, grumbled, but Chloe couldn't yet guess the reason for his chagrin. “We have glands at the joint that release preen oil when rubbed like that – from the main joint down. It helps keep the feathers neat and ordered, not to mention clean and waterproof. It's impossible to completely preen oneself though – unfortunate design flaw,” he said, demonstrating that he could get his wing tucked close enough to his body to brush through the inside feathers, but not so close that he could thoroughly comb down the back.

“So I've had to groom the back via showers since I got kicked out of Heaven.”

He chuckled.

“Though, for the life of me, I can't recall preening _ever_ feeling that good when I was young...back then, it was just like a relaxing massage...”

Chloe's emotional whiplash was something to behold.

“Are you telling me I'm the first person to touch your wings since...”

He covered up his discomfort, his loneliness, all of it, with a laugh.

“Will talk about this later, love. Promise. For the moment though, please...keep going, if you don't mind...”

Chloe hesitated, caught between wanting to help Lucifer work through yet another facet of his pain as a result of being banished, and wanting to finish what they started. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers through the feathers again at the same spot, from the top of the arch, all the way down.

His guttural groan drowned out any logical thinking, her mind awash with lust.

“Yes Chloe...just like that, love, it feels _so_ good...” Lucifer canting his hips against her and she whining, aching to have him fill her. He shook his head to clear it for just the few necessary moments it took to line them up and plunge inside. Her back ached and she moaned gorgeously.

“ _Lucifer – YES!_ ”

He nipped her neck, arms shaking as she continued to stroke his feathers and spread the oil through them.

“That's it Chloe, spread it everywhere...coat every feather...” he gasped. And when her fingers returned to gather more preen oil from the weeping, touched-starved glands, he _growled_ and began to pound into her.

Chloe whined, body electric with pleasure. With trembling arms, she tried to keep working to groom his feathers, arms stretching as far along his wingspan as she could reach. She was as thorough as she could be, combing through front and back, stretching to reach his wingtips, even as her body was assaulted with pleasure. Every time her fingers returned to the gland to collect more oil, his canting hips got faster, pushed deeper.

“ _Yes! Bloody Hell, yes!_ ” he grunted, voice high and wanting. She yelled and her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving tiny red marks pressed deep into his skin. It was the only thing she could do now to hold herself together. She was heaving, shuddering, consumed by pleasure.

“ _Lucifer!_ ” she squeaked. His hips stuttered.

“Come with me...”

She wailed and he roared with pleasure, wings jerking up and smacking the ceiling, only to flutter and shake like dead leaves once he'd collapsed on her chest. Chloe gasped and held him until the white spots cleared from her vision.

Lucifer rolled off her, lacking the strength to raise himself, but not wanting to continue crushing her.

He panted, brushing back his errant curls.

“Are you alright, love? Forgive my enthusiasm at the end there.”

A half dozen sentences passed through her mind.

Chloe could've made a joking comment about how she was completely satisfied, and would put up with the soreness, gladly.

She could've asked several questions about his wings, and grooming, and how bird-like he really was – or his family, his isolation, and his pain.

She almost asked when they could do this again.

But all that paled in comparison to the overall jubilation, calm, and boneless bliss.

“Wow...” she whispered, smiling. Lucifer flushed and shyly curled his immaculately groomed wings around himself, but she parted them again to kiss him.

He wrapped them around her instead, enfolding her in plush, white fluff.

So it was that Chloe Decker's weekend began, joyous and exciting, and how one of Lucifer's gleaming, perfectly coiffed feathers, about six inches in length, ended up in her hair.

That was all fine and dandy.

The trouble began when she lovingly pocketed the feather, and didn't mention it to her angel partner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Lucifer is away checking up on the situation in Hell, Chloe relieves her sexual frustrations, leading to a shocking discovery.
> 
> Upon his return, they talk about him and his wings.

_~ii~_

They didn't end up talking about his touch-starved wings right away. Following a busy two days at the precinct, Lucifer whisked himself down to Hell for his occasional check up on his kingdom – at most, a three day affair.

Chloe grew restless with her questions. Why, if he was more comfortable with his wings now, had he waited so long for someone to groom them? He could have easily asked Maze, now that they'd (mostly) reconciled, or if that wasn't an option, surely Amenadiel would have been sympathetic and willing. But no, he'd chosen her to be the first one, in what? Millennia? Since before written history?

The quantity of barely comprehensible time almost made her feel ill.

At least, she supposed, it wasn't as if they hadn't been tended to at all. But giving yourself a massage just wasn't the same as receiving the tender care from someone else.

And yet, if he was so willing, so comfortable with the notion of her petting his feathers once she'd asked, why hadn't _he_ asked her to?

This was exactly the sorts of things they'd been working on with Linda, working through his reluctance to voice his desires. He'd gotten more comfortable with speaking up, and she'd gotten better at asking for what he wanted and waiting patiently for shy answers.

He wasn't used to having his cake and eating it too, he'd said.

She, meanwhile, squinted at him indignantly and muttered under her breath not to refer to her as “cake.”

The memory of that joke had made him break out in peals of laughter for several days after.

So, his lack of preening at another's hands seemed to have little to do with any hesitance on his part. Had he simply not thought to ask?

It was a typical, irksome, Lucifer-shaped puzzle for her to mull over for three days. What was more, Chloe wasn't even allowed the dignity of a distraction on one of them – Trixie was at a friend's sleepover for nearly all of Saturday, and the weekend as a whole was light on casework.

Because of course Lucifer could never seem to time his trips to Hell with her busy weekends. The universe – or his Father – was simply that cruel.

Ella had often advised her to take up a hobby. Flippantly agreeing with her, she'd begrudgingly accepted Lopez' Christmas gift of an action/drama novel from the year's Top 100 books list, but she'd barely made it ten pages in.

Even now, she was struggling to focus on the contents of the story.

The trouble was, these days, Lucifer seemed to be her hobby. If she wasn't consumed with work or parenting or spending time with friends, the one thing she wanted to do was spend time with him – even a totally average movie night, or a game night with Trixie always brought on peals of laughter and warmed her from the inside-out. Sometimes he'd plan surprise dates where he'd fly her to a new, exotic location for the evening, or else, they'd spend a sweet night in, buried in comradery, casework, and kisses. The fiery nights of passion, curled around each other in bed, were some of their collective favorites.

The recollection of last time, of the way the light had reflected and danced across Lucifer's powerful, immaculate, gorgeous wings, was enough to make her bite her bottom lip and set her book aside.

She hurried upstairs, shut her bedroom curtains, and pulled out the vibrator tucked in her underwear drawer, and, from the bottom of her stockpile of aging, but still-wearable clothes in the bottom drawer, the six-inch feather.

It was still just as beautiful as it had been a few days ago, white and winking vaguely golden in the half-light of her room. She fondly stroked it with her fingers, admiring the velvety texture of the barbs, and the soft susurrus of the segments being disturbed and zipping right back into the perfect shape of the coiffed, elegant vane.

A piece of the Celestial that she loved...The warmth in her center grew, spreading into her stomach and up into her chest.

Her vibrator wasn't quite long enough or thick enough to convincingly imitate Lucifer's member, but it would do in a pinch. Her body gave a twinge of longing at his absence, but she shoved the feeling aside and stripped slowly, imagining it was him lovingly undressing her, pressing kisses to each inch of skin as it was exposed.

Completely bare, she lay back on her bed, resting her head on the pillows, fingers gently massaging her warming center, teasing and hitching her desire higher. She laid the feather in a shaft of light that crossed her bed and stared at it as she worked herself into a lust-riddled state.

She let her mind's eye swim with the memories. The strength of his thrusts, the canopy of beautiful feathers, the desire in his low moans, the desperation in his pinched brow, shimmering with sweat.

No man had ever made love to her so passionately, as deeply as he did. She'd felt the kinds of earth-shattering, roaring, dripping, heavenly pleasure he could give her a few times before – but never with a partner. With him, she need only ask and, just like that, she could _ascend_.

Growing desperate with want, Chloe stopped massaging her sex with her fingers, hand scrabbling for the vibrator, turning it on and skipping over the lower settings, starting it on medium.

She imagined his voice in her head, muttering sweet, sultry praises.

_You're so beautiful, Detective, teasing yourself open for me like that..._

She huffed out a moan.

_So desperate...longing to stretch yourself out and relax so I can plunge inside...if I had known how eager and wanton you could be Detective, I would have learned to behave sooner, just to have the privilege of making love to you..._

Chloe bit her lip, slowly pushing the vibrator inside. She could hear his responding rumble as he leaned down to worship her stretched lips and unattended pearl with his skillful tongue.

 _Chloe, you're positively_ filthy _...every bit as horny as the Devil...hhurrgh you're making me_ ache, _darling..._

“Then get in here,” she grunted “Get in here and show me how badly you want me...”

His groan was guttural. _Yes, my love._

“ _Fuck me!_ ” she panted, driving the vibrator into her, hard. He bent double, pounding into her with purpose.

_Yes, Detective! Yes...all mine for the taking..._

She clenched hard around him and he keened.

“And you're all mine...” she murmured, chasing the rippling waves of pleasure with a smile. He upped his speed, hips smacking against hers, shaft hitting that spot deep within her _hard_.

“YES!” she screamed, suddenly grateful that the house was empty “Yes, Lucifer, _yes!!_ ” she cried, elated, pleasure zipping along her nerves.

 _How much more can you take, Detective?_ He was teasing.

“How much can you give?” she returned, talking through a moan. She flicked the switch on her vibrator's base onto high speed, and her mind exploded with sounds of his grunts and groans of exertion and lust, her room echoing with her cries of pleasure.

“ _Flip me over!_ ” she yelled, needing the pressure of the bed underneath her body to ground her to the physical world, in the midst of all the ethereal, electric joy.

He did, and he thrust into her at the perfect, blissful angle. Within seconds, she reached her peak, pleasure rushing through her in a delicious avalanche. Chloe stayed face-down for a little while, catching her breath, shutting off the vibrator, but leaving it within her so she could have something to grip through the aftershocks.

_You did so well, Chloe. My gorgeous, wonderful Detective..._

If she didn't open her eyes, she could almost imagine that he really was wrapping his satin, plush wings around her again, that he'd truly been there through the whole affair.

Then there was a sharp pang of grief in her chest. She hadn't experienced that feeling since he'd gone back to rule Hell after the battle at The Mayan, maybe never to return. It honestly shocked her.

She'd seen him not even 48 hours ago. He'd gone on six of these brief trips now, it had been nearly a year since he'd moved back home to L.A. She most likely see him _tomorrow._ What was happening to her? Why did she miss him so much?

Bemused, Chloe removed the vibrator, stretching out in a cobra position before she nudged herself out of bed to go shower and wash off the toy-

And the most exquisite little tingle of pleasure swirled its way up her spine.

“ _Oooh..._ ” she moaned, automatic, and started. Where had that come from? It couldn't have been from stretching. She shifted her hips experimentally, mildly humping the bed, and pleasure bloomed from her center, so fast and so warm that she collapsed onto the sheets with a whine.

_What the hell?!_

Chloe rolled over, eyes wide and glancing about the sheets in shock, inspecting her labia with her fingers for any unusual sensation. No, still a bit too oversensitive from her orgasm, but nothing more.

...And then her eyes alighted on the feather from Lucifer's wing.

Based on its position relative to her, when she'd rolled over, her hips had settled right on top of it. She was instantly nervous – and if she was honest, a bit scared.

But also deeply curious and confused...and now, turned on all over again.

She tentatively reached for the feather and held it up in front of her, running her fingers through the barbs again. No, nothing unusual with the feather, or with her physiological reactions. It just felt soft and pleasant to the touch.

A potential test of her theory crossed her mind and she hesitated.

But, after a minute or two of stalling, she decided. She was going to wonder endlessly until she tried it, so she might as well get it over with.

Chloe spread her legs and again, and slowly, slowly, lowered the feather and positioned it parallel to her slit. She touched it to herself. It was an odd sensation, having something fluffy and soft against her wet opening, but not unpleasant. Neither was it arousing.

Huffing in annoyance, she swiped up the feather quickly in a smooth stroke.

Chloe cried out, her ears ringing with the sound of her own scream of pleasure.

She clapped her free hand over her mouth in shock.

It was so bizarre, so panic-inducing, so surreal.

Every logical neuron in her brain was screaming at her to shove the feather back in her old-clothes-drawer, or else burn the thing, and ask Lucifer about the whole mad affair tomorrow.

She had no idea what kind of consequences (supernatural or otherwise) this sort of thing could have – what her feeling pleasure from stroking herself with one of Lucifer's feathers could even _mean_.

But now, her nether regions were well and truly aching, begging for contact, for pleasure, for release. And the emotional half of her brain over-powered the logical.

She'd tuck it away _after_ she got herself off again.

Chloe lowered the feather again and let it tease her slit, stroking, whispering against her skin, circling, prodding, swiping. She was keening, tossing and turning about on the bed, like a ship on a storm-tossed sea, from the pleasure. It was pure euphoria, the most amazing, heavenly feeling she'd ever experienced. Her body was shaking, she was gasping from the roiling, crashing strength of each wave.

“ _Oh my God!!_ ” she cried, rubbing the feather against her clit harder and faster, chasing her end. But still she needed something more, something different.

In one swift motion, she lifted her hips off the mattress, lined up the feather, and plunged it inside her opening.

Her gasp was shuddering, almost sobbing. It was a nearly flat object, it shouldn't have, _couldn't_ have, filled her so perfectly. But it did. It stretched her deliciously, as if it were him. Each stroke against her walls set her G-spot tingling and gushing, vibrating with want. She was yelling, begging incoherently, the only thought in her conscious mind that of pleasure.

Wherever she was, so was no longer on the physical plane. She'd become a higher being than one of flesh. She was exploding with light.

It became so much she started to cry, to scream.

“ _LUCIFER!! Oh Luce – please!! Please let me come!! PLEASE!_ ” she begged, every nerve taught with desire.

And then she did. Wave after wave of orgasm, bursts and swirls and spirals and ribbons of pleasure, until her body could offer no more.

Many long minutes later, she sat up in bed and gawked at the comforter. On top of the patches of sweat decorating it, there was a huge, wet stain, just under where her hips had been. For the first time in her living memory, she'd squirted, leaving behind a sticky splotch on her bed.

Chloe held up the feather with trembling fingers. Three brushes down its length, and she'd cleaned the water-proof barbs of her body's lubricant.

Now free from the blinding fog of pleasure, she was heaving and sticky, chest heavy with embarrassment and shame.

She wiped the thing off with a tissue for good measure, and shoved it so deep in her dresser's bottom drawer that she hoped no one would ever find it again. She showered, industrious and thorough, dressed in meticulously clean clothes, gathered up the comforter, and stuffed it in the washer to clean it.

Within two hours, not a trace of evidence was left of her sexual escapade.

But still, the guilt sat, sour and hot in her gut.

~ ~ ~

The following evening, just after she'd put Trixie to bed, there was a knock at her door. In spite of the daunting weight of her shame that she carried on her shoulders, Chloe still melted into Lucifer's greeting-kiss.

She was thankful that this piece of them, at least, felt normal.

“Hello, Detective,” he said, eyes golden and gleaming with bliss. “Can I borrow you for a few hours?”

“Just a few. We have work tomorrow, you know?” He pressed his chuckle against her lips.

“I know, Chloe.”

A modest (modest by Lucifer's definition, when it came to his taste in luxury restaurants) Italian pasta dinner was waiting for her at Lux, laid out on a little circular table, a few lit candles serving as the center-piece.

“Of course, if you've already had dinner, there's cannoli chilling in the fridge-” She silenced him with a kiss, standing on tip-toe to reach him.

“You missed me,” she grinned, fingers brushing over his jaw. Lucifer leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Always, darling.” She smirked as she released him, and he went to pour her a drink.

“Really? Every time?” He scoffed, shoulders shuddering with his chuckle.

“Well, yes, but not _equally_ every time. The hole in my chest has been significantly patched up since I've moved back home. But, yes...” he said, grin cheeky and flirtatious as he handed her the glass of Chardonnay. “I always feel a certain...absence, or soft sadness during my business trips.”

Chloe buried her beguiled grin in her drink and sat down to dinner with him.

Lucifer was happy to answer her usual questions about his trip and what he'd worked on in the year and three months of Hell-time – looking over New Arrival case files, putting up old ones for review and possible Redemption, making sure the most dangerous of the Horde stayed in line. But after the succulent chicken fettuccine and fine wine had tired and relaxed them a bit, Chloe dared to ask the more difficult questions.

“Why did you wait so long to ask someone to groom your wings?” she asked, gently. Lucifer sputtered his lips in thought.

“I don't know – I mean, for one, I simply didn't have them for quite some time. But, for another, once I got them back...I wasn't immediately keen on them. I just gave them basic maintenance – brushed out loose feathers and showered them occasionally, nothing special. And then, when I grew comfortable with them again, understood what it said about me now that they were back, I just kept tending to them myself. That was what had become second nature, not asking one of my siblings to help comb them into a semblance of order...”

He hesitated, mouth soundlessly forming words as he thought. She reached across the table to hold his hand, smiling patiently, and his smile quirked into a cherishing grin.

“Besides, I didn't want to ask just anyone to help with my grooming – Maze would sooner walk across Demon-glass barefoot, and Amenadiel would scold me all the while for not taking better care of them.” Chloe barked with laughter.

“But with you...it's second nature...”

She blushed gorgeously, completely caught off guard.

“I didn't even have to stop to think. I trust you completely. And what makes this, us, so incredible is that the totally ordinary things can become surprising and wonderful. A chore like paperwork for a case or preening can become so much more...”

“I know exactly what you mean...” Chloe breathed, becoming suddenly a bit emotional in midst of such ardor.

He leaned across the table, kissing her Chardonnay-sweetened lips, parting with a muttered “I love you, so much...”

“I love you too, Lucifer...” Chloe whispered, busying herself with tracing patterns over his palm and knuckles, finally settling her hand perpendicular, so her fingers could wrap around his.

“But if you enjoyed me preening your wings so much, why didn't you ask me sooner? I would've helped in a heartbeat,” she murmured. His thumb stroked her knuckles, adoring and unhurried.

“I know, Detective. I just...” He sighed “With everything that has happened between us, I suppose I...also wanted to make our time together as normal as feasible...”

Her brows turned up in sympathy, in sadness.

“Luci-”

“Please, let me finish, I...I wanted to give you what I saw as the best of me – the most human parts of me, I suppose – and minimize the Celestial drama and abnormalities that _grooming_ _your partner_ would present,” he said, with a glint of humor in his eyes, and she allowed the easy chuckle to pass her lips.

Then, the weariness came back into his tone, as it usually did when it came to discussing family matters. But more than that, he sounded apologetic.

“Because there is always... _always_ going to be plenty of Celestial drama to go around...”

Chloe stood, circled the table swiftly, and kissed him. A small noise of surprise caught in Lucifer's throat before he leaned into her touch and softened.

She looked deep into his dark chocolate eyes when she pulled away to speak.

“I love you, Lucifer, and that means caring for and accepting all of you, as you are. In the future, please, _please_ don't hesitate to ask me for something or offer me something just because it involves something Celestial, okay?”

He took in her words, treasuring each one for the gem that it was.

“Okay,” he breathed, smile adorably smitten. She gave him a swift peck, delighted.

“And for the record, I _love_ your wings. Just because they aren't 'human' doesn't mean they have to bother me. Like everything else, they took a minute to get used and now I'm comfortable with them,” she said, with a one shouldered shrug.

His grin was suspicious, questioning. In typical playboy fashion, he quirked one eyebrow.

“It took you a good deal _longer_ than a minute to get used my mojo, _and_ my Devilish nature, Detective.” She relented, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, granted-”

“But you adjusted to my wings very quickly. Why is that?” Chloe gaped and gawked, fishing for words in her progressively emptier head as her mind was consumed with thoughts of how his wings had glowed golden in the morning light, and shuddered when she'd groomed them, and how hard she'd come _by touching herself with one of his feathers-_

Lucifer's arms looped snugly about her waist, preventing any and all opportunity for escape.

“I – I honestly don't know, Lucifer-”

She yelped, as he pulled her down to sit in his lap, eyes glittering with mischief.

“I think you do, Detective...” he said, sing-song and playful, hands stroking up and down her sides. She stammered, face warming from desire and embarrassment equally.

“A-and what i-if I don't want to say, because I'm afraid I'll hurt your feelings?” He squinted at her.

“How so?” She cursed his obliviousness and cast her eyes skyward for a second.

“Because it's one of your only angelic features?”

He pouted, childish and imperious at the same time, as impossible as the combination seemed.

“Detective, I'm surprised at you! My mojo is an entirely angelic feature as well, along with my stunning good looks!”

Chloe spluttered.

“You _know_ I'm never entirely sure about Angel – Demonic – magic – stuff-”

“You. Are. Stalling. What's the real reason, Detective?”

She huffed out a frustrated breath.

“I think your wings are beautiful.” His expression became the picture of sarcasm.

“Tell me something I don't know.”

Her face flamed.

“Fine – _fine!_ If you promise me you won't let it go your head, I'll tell you.” Lucifer crossed his heart, grinning cat-like in victory, and Chloe groaned. She refused to meet his eyes.

“Your wings are unbelievably...stupidly sexy...”

His laugh was utterly jubilant as he attacked her mouth with kisses, making Chloe squeal with surprise and try in vain to stop his onslaught.

“ _I knew it! HA-HA!_ I knew it had to be more than just aesthetics! _Chloe Decker has a wing kink!!_ ” She smacked his shoulder, aghast and affronted, and squirmed in his lap, trying to hard to break away. But Lucifer had seized her wrists, and now he was never going to let her go.

“Lucif-!” She couldn't even scream his name in indignation before he kissed her, adoring and thrilled.

“ _Chloe..._ ” he moaned happily between kisses, and bit by bit, she melted in his embrace, her anger draining away.

In short order, he'd had his fill of her lips and simply held her close.

“My darling Detective...I'm so happy you like them so...” She laughed in sheer bemusement.

“But what difference does it make if I think your wings are sexy or beautiful?” He kissed the top of her head, making her smile.

“All the difference in the world, Detective. When you ran your fingers through my feathers...”

A shudder raced his spine, and Chloe felt a strong burst of desire in her stomach. She'd never felt so sexy, so powerful, so wanted as she did in that moment, holding her shivering lover.

“...Let's just say that any future grooming sessions would not be able to occur without similar outcomes – at least, on my end. But knowing that you appreciate my wings in a carnal manner as well makes it so much sweeter...”

“Because you know I'd enjoy the experience just as much as you,” Chloe murmured, connecting the dots out loud.

“Yes...” he whispered, pulling apart just enough to fix her with a heated kiss. Desire twisted in Chloe's belly, insistently.

“So...when can we have another grooming session?” she asked, huskily.

All of sudden, the haze of heat and sultry kisses evaporated, and the illusion broke. Lucifer gently nudged her off his lap, rising from his seat as well.

“Not any time soon, I'm afraid.”

Chloe was flabbergasted.

“What?! Why?”

“Just – it's – uh – not healthy, for my feathers, to frequently be coated in fresh preen oil. Its best to let the waterproof coating sit for a bit and do its job. Refreshing it too soon can lower the protective capacities of the next round of coating...”

It wasn't a lie, this Chloe knew for certain. But it was a very dodgy answer.

“But I thought you said you _really_ enjoyed-”

He kissed her, words dying on her tongue.

“I did. It's for hygienic reasons, love,” he said, with an apologetic shrug.

So he wouldn't explain why for now. That was fine.

“Okay,” she murmured, channeling all her feelings of longing and absence into the kiss she gave him. His defenses dropped like a ten-ton weight, and he scooped her up his arms and stumbled to the bed, unable to get enough of her.

And as they made love that night, Chloe's vestigial shame about the debaucherous affair with his feather faded completely.

He adored her lustier feelings about his wings.

But when it came to letting her touch them again, his walls had been thrown right back up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe's shame about the night with the feather gone, she falls into a habit of experimenting with pleasure.
> 
> The habit develops into something far darker and more primal, resulting in close calls and embarrassing situations.

_~iii~_

She shouldn't.

She really _really_ shouldn't.

But there was nothing to be ashamed of, Chloe reasoned. Lucifer knew she had a thing for his wings. They were all good.

Then why could she barely focus on the paperwork in front of her, and why was her leg bouncing up and down, and _why_ couldn't she distract herself from the aching between her thighs?

They'd had sex _last night_ , multiple times, and had been amazing, as usual. She'd felt bone-deep satisfaction. So why _the hell_ was she so horny?!

It would be so quick. So easy. Then she could get back to work for a few brief minutes and call it a night.

No – it was _weird,_ it was _wrong_ , her logical mind fired back. And something that brought her _that_ much pleasure couldn't possibly be good for her.

But Lucifer's happy grin when he'd pieced together she had a wing kink kept flashing into her mind.

That, and the thought that his wings were completely off-limits.

For now, this was the only way she could interact with them, touch them, run her fingers through the velvety, satin barbs that had captured her whole heart and then some...

Her gut twisted with desire. She threw down her pencil with a huff and went upstairs.

Fifteen minutes, tops. Trixie was already asleep, so she wouldn't be discovered if she was quiet.

Chloe dug up the feather from her bottom drawer and went into her on-suite bathroom. At least here she could turn on the ventilation and the sound would help drown out her pants and moans.

She tugged off her pants and underwear, perching on the top of the toilet lid in only her t-shirt. Lucifer's feather was just as neatly kempt as it had been before, still totally dry and silkily water-proof. She couldn't even faintly smell herself on it when she cautiously sniffed it.

She felt the briefest moment of trepidation as she lowered the feather between her lifted knees and parted thighs. And then bit her lip, tossed back her head and _whined_.

Oh _God_ , it was even better than she _remembered_. Each stroke of the feather against her wet lips and clit now sent _pulses_ of pleasure radiating through her body. _Strong, **strong**_ , then titillating, light flutters as they spread out, teasing by sheer sensation.

She rubbed the heavenly white quill up and down in long, luxurious strokes, keening, nerves alive.

“Lucifer... _mmmhrrrmm,_ my angel, you know me so well...” she murmured, lost to her fantasy of love-making. She pictured him teasing her opening with his length, planting kisses all along her neck, purring and feral.

“Make me scream?...Don't I usually?” she teased, biting her lip, flicking the feather up fast, a pleasurable punishment. “Don't make me beg, Luci...I'm already all yours...” she snarled.

And the feather rapidly picked up speed. Flicking, fluttering, swiping up and down, relentless on her little pearl.

“ _Oh my Gah-gah-od!!_ ” she heaved, bouncing her hips to increase friction, imagining Lucifer ravishing her, his thrusts possessive and hard. She was practically humping the feather, the stiff rachis delivering delicious friction and pressure, her slick starting to drip down onto the toilet lid.

“Oh – _FUCK!_ ” she yelped, jumping every so often, when a jolt of pleasure snuck up on her. Oh please, _please_ , let it happen. Let her be swept up and washed out sea into oblivion by the tsunami. Her knuckles were white from their grip on the toilet seat.

Faster the feather tickled and stroked...faster... _faster..._

“ _YES!_ ” she screamed, the sound ripping out of her bodily as she came, shuddering and shaking, joy indistinguishable from pleasure in her veins. Emotion and sensation had become one all-consuming entity. Chloe counted twelve delicious aftershocks before she bottomed out, and slumped against the toilet tank, happy, limp, and satisfied.

A little while later, she convinced herself to rise, shower and rinse off the feather of her fluids – which stayed perfectly water-proof still. She did manage to get her head on straight to finish up her paperwork, and went to bed not even half-an-hour later.

But in the night, her subconscious was drunk on lust, and her mind could dream of nothing but sex, and love, and pleasure, and Lucifer.

So it was that she woke up hot and bothered, and found herself compulsively reaching for the feather again.

~ ~ ~

It took two weeks before Chloe acknowledged to herself that she was in deep, deep shit.

More, actually, closer to twenty days, because it took until after two weeks had passed for her to have a Trixie-free weekend, which is where it truly got out of hand.

At first, it was every other day. Just an occasional treat, a pick-me-up to help her through the week, relieve a little stress, and remind her that she had time on the weekend with Lucifer to look forward to.

After a romantic, sensuous day, and night, and day spent with her partner, it got even worse. Every day she reached for the feather and brought herself to release, whether in the morning before work, or in the evening after, during Trixie's karate practice, or late at night after her daughter had gone to bed.

Chloe found her moments of privacy however she could – stolen in a bathroom, pretending to nap on her bed, at her home office-desk while she did paperwork.

Chloe Decker, if nothing else, was a brilliant multi-tasker.

Sometimes she'd have to wipe the feather clean in a hurry, because Trixie's school bus was about to pull up at the curb. Other times she'd lovingly wash and clean it, double-checking the coating was still pristine. Sometimes she'd leave it her bathroom sink to clean later, because she had no time at all before Dan dropped off her daughter.

Lucifer's feather was permission to experiment with pleasure shamelessly, and experiment she did. Sometimes she would stick it inside her when she had to race about the house doing chores. From the friction of her thighs and the subtle internal stimulation while she walked, she'd reach her release even this way, if slowly. She'd always have to make sure a sturdy piece of furniture or machinery was nearby when that long-awaited release came, so she could hold onto something and keep herself from falling over.

When she was positively, definitely alone, with several good hours all to herself, her pace would be relentless, brutal, as she speared herself with the feather over and over again, walls fluttering at the speed of a mouse's heartbeat. She'd prop it up between two pillows and pretend to be riding Lucifer, or she'd flutter it hyper-fast against her sensitive nub – a sure-fire way to make her squirt and see neon colors.

Even rubbing it against her stiff nipples brought on exquisite pleasure.

Each time, she told herself it was the last time. Thrice, she tried to go back to using her vibrator, but after the feather had worked its magic so completely, it just wasn't enough. The sex toy didn't fill her right, didn't take her as high, didn't convince her of the fantasy that her broad-shoulder, broad-winged angel was bringing her to dripping, screaming ecstasy.

The toy's once-pleasant vibrations now felt grating, left her sore and pained.

Chloe started getting snappy at work, her temper shorter, patience thinner. When she looked into why the change in mood might be happening on Psychology Today, irritability due to an unsatisfying sex life was woefully high on the list of possible culprits.

So, she started taking the feather to work for mid-day pick-me-ups instead of rushed day's beginnings, or too-far-off day's end rewards. The precinct bathroom, the evidence closet, even the observation room-side of the two-way mirror, once, during lunch break, became the places of her salvation.

These were her houses of worship, her sacred ground where she could be with her angel and ascend again, intoning his name in sweetest ecstasy.

She began to look forward to these reckless, stolen moments more warmly than she did even her late nights with Lucifer.

This was where the pleasure addiction became something much more, from an inconvenience and possible illness to a source of stirring self-hatred.

Chloe's guilt positively ate at her for it. She felt horrible. Lucifer was every bit the amazing, attentive, generous lover he'd always been.

It was her own damn fault. For keeping the feather. For being impatient. For having a stupid _wing kink._ For not just taking Lucifer at his word and patiently waiting until she could groom him again, or else, confront the problem directly with Linda there to mediate, and learn why he really, suddenly, didn't want her hands on his wings again.

She screamed so loud in the precinct bathroom once that Ella ran to her rescue, terrified she was being attacked. Chloe had had to implicate something in her dinner being spoiled to assuage her friend that everything was fine. But even with the suspicious glances and worried looks Ella shot her from across the forensics lab later, it wasn't enough.

Nearly getting caught in the evidence room by Dan, sweaty and bedraggled, breathing like she'd run a marathon nearly put her off it altogether. She made up some lie about intermittent workouts, dropping and knocking out twenty push-ups to prove her point. Dan's hesitant compliment about her impressive dedication to her fitness plan, and the weary glance as he left, were potent. But after a three day break from the feather, she picked it up again – the fear and embarrassment weren't enough.

Coming at her desk from Lucifer merely jostling her shoulder in greeting, because she had the cursed thing shoved up inside of her, was its own brand of circus act – as she tried and failed to convince her partner she'd merely just been startled.

“I've seen you scared, Detective! You turn pale, not bright red!” he'd laughed, oblivious.

“You caught me at a bad time...”

“Thinking of the anniversary of the first time we met, coming up in a few weeks, then?” he suggested, sultry and conspiratorial.

“Maybe...” That, at least, had lead to a wonderful make out session in the evidence closet, and another, excellent, unintended orgasm, which she'd passed off as a case of feverish, turned-on shivers.

But still, he stared at her hard, gaze analytical and shrewd all through their dinner date that night, and held her for an extra long time when they kissed goodbye.

“Just...take good care of yourself for me, okay, Detective?” His dark eyes seemed determined to leaving an etching on her soul.

“Of course, Lucifer...” she said, smiling blithely.

And she did that night. With his feather.

His deep, instinctual concern for her, wasn't enough.

The final straw turned out to be intrinsic. On a week she didn't have Trixie, and had little work to speak of, she had the feather in hand multiple times, each day. She couldn't help herself, it was like a craving she could no longer completely satisfy.

Thursday it was two, Friday five, Saturday four.

She seemed to always be sweaty, or sticky, or both. The feather was starting to lose its weather-proofing. When she wasn't eating or sleeping or working, her mind was on that beautiful feather and what it could do to her body, and when she could use it next.

Chloe cried into her dinner that Sunday night, after the last release of the day, adding salt to the already sodium-packed microwavable mac n' cheese.

Everything had gotten completely out of hand. She needed help. She had to do something.

Tomorrow, the _moment_ she got off work, she was going to Lux to talk to Lucifer, come what may.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer, worried for the Detective, begins to research possible supernatural reasons behind her unusual behavior.
> 
> He turns to Doctor Linda for assistance on his research project, and tells her the reason for his change of mind about Chloe grooming his wings.

_~iv~_

While Chloe spent her weekend drowning in euphoria, Lucifer spent his swamped in research. He knew his Detective – if something was up within the realm of 'the ordinary,' she would have told him by now, no question. Thanks to therapy, they'd gotten bloody good at that.

Something supernatural was afoot, he could feel it in his Celestial bones.

So the Devil had kipped down to Hell, to his palace, and his affectionately, ironically named, Infernal Library to gather resources.

Because in good ole Dad's eyes, knowledge was evil and forbidden.

In reality, Celestial Library might have been a better name. Some the tomes in it were as old as time itself, copies of his Father's notes on his experiments and pet-projects, transcribed by his siblings. Others were at least held together by rotting bindings, their pages a little less moldy: Bible stories and Celestial tales (both records of his family history and legends about them, alike). He also had his personal collection of History books, his way to fill in the blanks about life on Earth from when he hadn't been able to visit, and an amusing little nook solely dedicated to the trash and popcorn books that had come out of the angel fad of the 1990's, for when he really needed a good, hearty laugh.

He stuffed a old satchel and a briefcase full to bursting with anything and everything he thought might be useful, might give him a hint as to how things had been upset with the Detective, and shot back up to Earth.

Within minutes of Earth-time, he was knocking frantically on his brother's front door.

Amenadiel had barely cracked it when Lucifer shoved his way into the house.

“Luci? What-”

“ _I need to speak to the Doctor – urgently!_ ” And the Devil charged up to Linda's study, leaving Amenadiel sharing a perplexed look with the babbling Charlie in his arms.

He threw open her office door.

“Doctor!! I'm sorry for showing up out of the blue like this, but I'm in dire need of your help!”

Linda had been reading through a patient's file at her desk. She mildly lifted her chin to meet her most difficult patient's gaze, and, before she'd even processed the worry there, shut the manila folder with a _snap_.

Clearly, there was no worming her way out of this.

“What is it, Lucifer?” she asked calmly.

However, _she_ would judge if the matter was truly an emergency.

Lucifer dropped the peeling briefcase on her desk with a _thunk_ , slinging off the patchy satchel, and began to stack the pile of books into a mountain-formation, explaining all the while.

“I need – your eyes, and your – scholarly research skills, Linda,” he said, wrestling with the hefty books. “Not all of these – are in English, mind, but – those that aren't – tend to have – vivid illustrations – so, you can start with this lot – and I'll begin with-”

“Lucifer, what on earth is this about?!” Linda exclaimed, gawking at the Devil, and his nerve to saddle her with an unexpected, massive research project.

He dropped into the seat across from her, eyes wide with anxiety.

“Something's happened with Chloe. I don't what it is, but considering how helpful our sessions with you have been, it can't be anything 'human-caused', shall we say?”

Linda glared at him.

“Don't you think you're jumping to conclusions, just a little?” Lucifer sighed, taking a large breath and trying to slow down the pace of his frantic explanations.

“Maybe, but I don't think so. Everything was perfectly brilliant until we...well...” Linda threw up her eyebrows, questioning.

“Had sex...with my wings out.”

Confusion drew a deep furrow in Linda's brow.

“And how does that change things, and automatically made the change supernatural?”

Lucifer ran a hand down his face, leg bouncing nervously.

“Okay. I'll start from the very beginning. The Detective and I made love while she groomed my wings – something I need help with to do thoroughly. While it had been a long, long time since someone had laid hands on them, I trusted her completely and it was _wonderful_. It was completely pleasurable and the feeling was mutual. Turns out the Detective rather has a thing for my wings...” he said, grinning impishly.

At Linda's quirked eyebrow, he snapped out of his fantasies and hurried on.

“Then, I had to pop off to Hell for one of my quick business trips, you know? And that's when my deputy revealed some rather startling information...”

~ ~ ~

“Azazel, my friend!” Lucifer said, sweeping inside his polished basalt palace in the heart of Hell with a flourish. The dark-haired Celestial – with sharp cheekbones and jawline, a prominent nose, and even sharper primary feathers on his neat, short-cropped wings, the color of raw silver – was currently occupying Lucifer's burgundy couch in the palace's suave sitting room.

“Greetings, my king,” answered the bass-voiced, calm Azazel, rising to greet his superior. “What brought on this riotous, good mood of yours?” he asked, clasping Lucifer's forearm for a shake.

“Whatever do you mean, deputy?” asked the Devil, sashaying behind the open bar to pour himself a drink.

Hell's liquor wasn't nearly as good as Earth's – sometimes the volcanic soil could only produce bitter, bland fruit. But it would do in a pinch.

“I mean that you aren't often so chipper when you drop by to check in. Has something happened?” Lucifer shrugged, grin still aglow as he served Azazel as well, unprompted.

“Maybe something to do with that detective of yours?” Azazel probed, smile carving a dimple into his milk-and-coffee-colored skin, that not even taking a sip of his whisky could conceal.

The Devil rolled his eyes, but relented.

“Yes, but what difference does it make?” Lucifer knocked back his drink in one swallow. “You know I'm here to work, not play. Now, where'd you leave the New Arrival files?”

“Upstairs, on your desk.”

And the Devil took wing, flying out of the parlor and up to his study. Azazel followed suit, truly perplexed. When had Lucifer ever been in a hurry to get to work like this? He'd always preferred the taking the elevator to swooping about his castle.

“Alright, out with it, cousin,” said his right-hand Fallen Angel, hopping down from the windowsill and into the Devil's study. “Something's pleased you immensely.”

“Azazel...” Lucifer warned, glancing up from the mountain of papers on his carved, mahogany desk, the circular room nearly surrounded by bookshelves, packed with files, except for the gaps left for the high windows and oak door.

Azazel grinned, impish and at ease, rolling up his button-down's sleeves, and taking up his stack of files-for-review wordlessly.

“What's one secret between friends – or colleagues, if you prefer?” he said, hiding his half smirk.

Lucifer sighed dramatically, and set down his handful of papers.

“If you _really_ can't let this one go, cousin, it was just a bit of...bolstering intimacy, shall we say?” Azazel groaned, running a swarthy hand down his face.

“Now you're just trying to make me regret asking-”

“No, truly. Let me ask you this, cousin, when was the last time someone groomed _your_ wings?” Azazel's brow furrowed.

“A few weeks ago. Gromos proved quite helpful.” The Devil glowered at him.

“You'd seriously just let any old Demon-”

“You know Gromos is mischievous at worst. He's had such a good streak of late I've considered letting him borrow a feather to use for Redemption.”

“Don't you dare – who will keep Dromos in check when he's gone?”

“Your point, cousin?” teased the deep-voiced Fallen.

“ _You ought not just let anyone groom your wings!_ ”

“Father!” Azazel swore in surprise at his superior's loud exclamation. “Powers that be, fine. I'll ask one of the guilt-trapped souls to help next time, shall I?” Lucifer groaned.

“That's not my point, at all! Bloody Hell, cousin, have you ever had your wings groomed by someone who cares for you?”

“Yes. Recall that I Fell a while after you did? Teaching humans how to craft weaponry, the First War, all that fuss?” Azazel scrutinized his superior, puzzling. “Are you well, my king? Has it really been that long since you've been preened?”

Lucifer nearly, _nearly_ shot Azazel a scathing look. But then he softened and sighed. It wasn't his fault. He simply didn't know.

“Yes, it has been that long, Azazel, since I _trusted_ someone else to groom them for me.” Azazel's teasing look faded, his smile turning genuine and calming.

“She really is something else, isn't she?” Lucifer laughed, the sound bright and beautiful.

“Truly, she is.” He chuckled, purring with elation. “I wish for you to find someone half as good a match for yourself as she is for me, cousin. Preening combined with sex will turn your world upside-down on its axis!” the Devil chortled.

But at those words, Azazel's smile dissipated.

“Preening _and_ sex?”

“Yes. What, not your thing, is it?” Lucifer said, turning back to his case files. Azazel slapped down the papers, taking Lucifer's hand to the desk with the same, sharp gesture – not hard enough to hurt, but plenty to grab his full attention.

“For absolute, crystal-clear understanding, my king – she groomed your wings _during_ sex, and as a result, you released your seed inside her?”

Lucifer scoffed, surprised and confused.

“Well, yes, that is generally how we have intercourse. I'm incapable of getting her pregnant – still a Celestial and all. At the very least we'd have to do some elaborate mental gymnastics to get me to flip the switch and _want children_ ,” he snorted “thus, making myself able to father them. And, just to make absolutely certain, the Detective takes medicine to help prevent any pregnancies, however unlikely.”

“It's not pregnancy I'm asking about, cousin,” said Azazel, beginning to smile. “It's about your release in time with the preening.”

Lucifer stammered, baffled.

“Simultaneous. Where are you going with this?”

But Azazel had already backed away, clapping a hand over his mouth to conceal his rhapsodic grin.

“ _What?!_ ” Lucifer exclaimed.

“You _mated_ with her!” Azazel whispered, ecstatic.

The Devil went pale, blinking in bewilderment.

“What?”

“Oh – congratulations, cousin! That is wonderful news!”

“What the **HELL do you mean by** _ **mating?!**_ ” Lucifer thundered, red-eyes flaring, silencing Azazel's joyous tirade.

“...You truly don't know, cousin?” murmured Azazel, meeting his ruler's panicked eyes. Lucifer collapsed into his chair, and the Angel of War pulled up a stool alongside him, perching on its edge.

“It's not as bad as it sounds, let me assure you,” Azazel began his explanation “It's a manifestation of everything that was already happening between you and the Detective. You trusted her completely, so you opened up, let her groom your wings during intercourse. In achieving orgasm during this process, you've essentially marked her as your partner for life.”

Lucifer sighed.

“I suppose you're right...I already knew it was only ever going to be her...” The Angel of War nodded.

“You've just solidified your bond in a physical, tangible way – completed the circle. She's your one and only, your beginning and end.” Lucifer chuckled lightly, lowering the hands that had been steepled against his lips.

“That about sums it up, yes.”

“And it is Angelic mating, explicitly _not_ Angelic breeding. According to ancient literature, you'd _really_ have to want a child with her to actually impregnate her.” The Devil laughed, softly.

“When did you have time to do all this research, cousin?”

“Again, in Heaven for a lot longer than some – plenty of time to read crumbling old scrolls in Latin, Sumerian, and Afrikaans.” Lucifer snorted with laughter.

“That – and do some 'field research' of my own,” said Azazel, smiling guiltily.

Lucifer affectionately socked him in the shoulder.

“Devious sinner!”

“Obviously.”

The two laughed together, happily, and after having their fill, Azazel rose to leave and let Lucifer carry out his work. The sooner he was done, the sooner he could return to his mate.

“Happy to hear that you two are committed for life,” he said with a wave.

He almost, _almost_ made it to the doors.

“ _Azazel!_ ” He whipped around, meeting the Devil's piercing gaze.

“I know my first and life-long love will be Chloe. But, frankly, when it comes to forever...” He stumbled, didn't want to voice the fears aloud. Azazel looked at his cousin like he had decided to wage war on his Father all over again.

“What are you talking about?! Chloe's crazy about you!”

“Yes, but-”

“She accepted you as you are!”

“Sure-”

“Devil _AND_ Angel!”

“Bu-”

“Put up with your shenanigans!”

“Don't remind m-”

“Your uncertainty, your doubt, helped you work through your baggage!”

“ _THANK YOU – perfectly aware of that-_ ”

“And yet you doubt that she could _possibly_ choose anyone els-”

 _“We haven't exactly discussed it!!_ ”

The circular, stone room grew quiet.

“I know she loves me...beautifully and utterly. But I haven't proposed. I haven't even asked her what she might think about having me around from the rest of her life.”

“ _Lucifer_...” Azazel exclaimed, showing just how frustrated he was by swearing the Devil's name, shaking his head. The Angel of War glanced about the room for answers, for strength, silver-gray wings fluttering restlessly.

The Devil shrugged, apologetic.

“Well...if that really is the case, I wouldn't recommend repeated mating until you _are_ sure.”

“Why?”

Azazel's eyes grew wide with fear, with warning.

“When an Angel mates, it's for his entire supernatural life. It doesn't happen often because we instinctually know to guard ourselves against it, because as strong of a bond as mating creates, it makes us much more fragile. Any betrayal or infidelity – again, not something Chloe would do – the pain of it could rip your soul in two.”

Lucifer's eyes bulged out of his skull.

“ _Now_ you're telling me this?” he hissed.

“But Chloe would _never_ hurt you that way,” Azazel affirmed “Unfortunately, even that commitment going unrequited could be enough to do serious damage.”

“How?!”

“If an Angel mates, and their partner does not feel love and dedication as deeply as they do, any repeated matings with that unequally devoted partner will slowly drive you mad with lust. Because if mating is unfulfilling, it'll never be enough. You'll never be fully satisfied.”

“Oh fuck...” Lucifer swore, face white as freshly printed paper.

“Exactly. So, ask her. Hearing it from her won't be easy to bear, but not being reciprocated physically could drive you insane.”

~ ~ ~

“Hence, the mountain of research, Doctor. I suspect mating with Chloe might be affecting her in some adverse and unintended way. In case its dangerous, or even deadly, I need to figure out what it is as soon as possible!”

“Lucifer,” Linda groaned, brow a mess of exasperated divots. “Why don't you just _ask_ her if anything's wrong?!”

“Fair point, Doctor, but what good would asking her be if I can't identify what she's experiencing, or how to help solve it? So!” he clapped his hands, sitting up “Now that you're all caught up we can finally get started-”

“ _Lucifer!_ ” Dr. Linda shouted, freezing the Devil in his tracks. He pulled his hand away from the tome he'd been reaching for, sat back in his chair, and listened.

“Chloe happily groomed your wings, you said yourself she finds pleasure in them! She took _bullets_ for you, faced down crazy Vatican _clergymen_ for you, looked at your Devil-face, not just without flinching, but with a _smile_. How could you not be sure? How could you lack the courage to ask her if she's as serious about your relationship as you are?” the Doctor asked, hitting on every point of contention in Lucifer's swirling mind with a sniper's accuracy.

Lucifer sighed, meeting her eyes, knowing full-well he could no longer run from the truth.

“Because...” said the Devil, shoulders scrunching upward, making him appear smaller. “It's easy in a way, for me, a Celestial, to say I could love her for a human lifetime. That's a drop in the bucket, a blink-and-you-miss-it length of time for an angel-” He saw Linda's interjection coming from a mile away “-and what I'll do when she's gone, and the drastic differences in our lifespans is something else entirely, to unpack another day!”

Linda raised her hands in a mild imitation of surrender.

“Fine, fair enough.”

“But for Chloe...'til death do us part is the remainder of her _whole life_. How can I...” he sighed, exhausted “How could I possibly ask that of her?”

Linda looked at him sagely, a sad sort of half-smile on her face.

“How can any human ask that of another human? It's both their whole lives in that situation.”

“Exactly, Doctor – even footing! It's different for me because it's hardly all of my life, and it's time well-spent because it's _with her-_ ”

“Which, if she loves you even half as much as I think she does, is exactly how _she'd_ feel about spending that time with _you_.”

Lucifer took in a very deep breath and slowly let it out, mulling over all this.

He met the shrewd therapist's steely eyes.

“Very well, Doctor. I promise I'll ask Chloe before the day is out. Mind you, I still have no idea how to feel about a genuine wedding, about marrying someone I'm prepared to dedicate myself to – Candy, bless her, didn't count – so don't expect an invitation in the mail just yet. But...I'll ask Chloe about 'forever,'” he said, voice vibrating with nerves, though his gaze was steady and sure.

Linda nodded, smiling again.

“All the same, I'd still really appreciate a bit of help with my research,” he said, flashing her a devilish smile. Linda rolled her eyes, massively.

“Fine.”

The pair combed through the books for several hours, taking breaks so Linda could help with Charlie and so they could both eat lunch, and, eventually, dinner.

Lucifer _did_ manage to find a tome that thoroughly covered Angelic mating, _and_ breeding, but was utterly lacking in warning details about what could occur if mating was unrequited or failed to continue between a mated pair.

He skimmed through Greek, Latin, Spanish, Sumerian, Hindi, Chinese, and Old English texts, but found few concrete leads. Many were simply histories or love stories about Angels, or else, tall-tales passed down via hearsay – with no tangible facts to be found between the lines.

Switching up tactics, Lucifer took the rest of the Angelic lore books to root through, passing a few ancient medicine and texts on healing to the Doctor. Maybe the problem was more medical, more physical than supernatural?

They must have gone through 50, 60 books, at least. Lucifer was about to give up and call it a night, mostly for the sake of Linda's weary, human eyes, but just as he was rising from his chair to pack up the library and leave, Linda's eyes snapped open wide.

“Oh, wow – okay, these illustrations are a bit graphic.” Lucifer smirked, if tiredly.

“You'd be surprised the kind of things those lonely, sexually-repressed monks came up with in those drafty, monastery towers-”

“Besides the point. Now, I can't read Gregorian Latin, but this picture makes me wonder...”

Linda lay down the tome, and turned the book around to face Lucifer. The Illuminated, delicately painted ink drawing was, indeed, explicit. A curvaceous, nude woman was reclined against a rock, auburn hair splayed around her in an erotic cloud. In her left hand, she was grasping a feather, the fluffy quill in question held hostage between her legs, touching her feminine sex. If her elated smile and flushed cheeks were any indication, she was in the throws of orgasm. And if the halo of golden light around the feather served a visual narrative purpose...

Lucifer skimmed the passage just below the illumination, and his jaw dropped open, mouth breaking into a smile.

“Doctor, you're brilliant!! You've found my answer!” he said, as he swarmed about the room, gathering up books by the armful, ecstatic.

“Wait – I don't understand! What did I find? What does it say?!” exclaimed Linda, pleased but bewildered.

“It's an old fable, that, but nonetheless, I'm positive it's my answer for the Detective's strange behavior – the jumpiness, the secrecy, the sour moods, sleeping with me less when she's definitely not tired or lacking in interest – it all fits!”

Before Linda could yell at him for not answering her question, he launched into an explanation.

“The woman in the story, Teresa, had an angel lover. They adored each other and were a mated pair, but couldn't be together all the time because the angel had to return to Heaven to perform his duties every few months. But, for the times that he was absent, he left Teresa a feather from his wings that brought her immense pleasure and joy – tiding her over until they could be together again.”

Linda gaped at him.

“ _That's_ what you think Chloe's been hiding?! That she's been getting herself off with a-”

“Yes!! I just hope I'm not too late!” he muttered to himself, throwing his satchel back over his shoulder and scooping up his briefcase, sprinting from Linda's office, the Doctor following in hot pursuit.

“Too late for what?!” Linda yelped, starting to fear for her friend.

“In the story, the angel gets slain by a wayward demon, and his mate never knows what became of him. Teresa goes mad because the feather's not enough to keep her grounded without her angel to give her a good shag. Shit, I hope Chloe hasn't gone past that point of no return!!” Lucifer yelled over his shoulder, sprinting out the front door and leaping into the sky.

Linda froze on the spot, gawking like a fish, Amenadiel staring at her in wide-eyed panic, none the wiser as to what the hell was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now knowing the reason behind Chloe's odd behavior, Lucifer rushes to Lux to meet her and talk things over.
> 
> He catches her at a bad time.
> 
> But the Devil and the Detective have been through Hell and back together. They can manage this, too.

_~v~_

Chloe paced around the Lux penthouse, anxiously. She'd texted Lucifer, letting him know she was coming over. Rarely was he far from home these days, and though she wondered why he hadn't been at work, it wasn't uncommon for him to take a day off every now and again. She thought it'd be quick, easy. But now, she was pacing around an empty apartment, tapping her phone in her palm, waiting for the tell-tale _ding_ marking a return text.

It was nearly half-an-hour later that she got one back.

_Alright, darling. I'll be there in about an hour's time. Make yourself comfortable._

Chloe groaned in annoyance and frustration. An hour?! What was she supposed to do with that kind of time?! She'd already had dinner, had taken Trixie to Dan's, drove around the city sight-seeing, even sorted through the old pictures on her phone to free up space (Ella was right, she desperately needed a hobby)!

There was nothing for her to do, nothing for her to distract herself with or occupy her mind...

Chloe purposefully did not turn her head. Did not look at her purse. Did not acknowledge its existence.

It didn't matter. Still, somehow, it felt like the cursed, evil feather was burning a hole through the faux leather bag.

Humming in panic, Chloe ran into Lucifer's bedroom, desperate to find something, _anything_ to use an excuse to not be tempted. She rooted through his closet.

Borrowed board games from their family game nights, forgotten tie clips and cuff links, a collection of old towels and sheets, and _a-ha!_ a yoga mat, perfect!

Chloe spread out the mat on the bedroom floor and did some twitchy, nervous stretches, limbering up and warming her muscles nicely in spite of her distraction. She fell into a mindful rhythm. Deep breath, downward dog, loud breathing, cobra, warrior poses, silent breath, praise the sun, loud breath, tree pose, repeat.

She managed to go through six slow reps, undisturbed. And then, hands shaking, she sprinted over to her bag and rooted through it, seizing the feather in a victorious, tense fist.

She ran back to the bed, breathing hard.

It would only be a few minutes. Just a few minutes. Then she could go back to yoga. It was probably going to be the last time anyway right? Surely, Lucifer would be able to help? He could stop this...he had to...

But all her anxiety and fear evaporating like a puff of water vapor the second she'd stripped and the feather was rubbing against her sex. Her back arched like an anaconda in heat.

“ _Oh my God, YES!_ ” Chloe cried, moaning loud and wanton. It was all too easy to throw her inhibitions out the window when the feather felt _so_ good. She swirled it around, pace neither fast nor slow, but purposefully covering every inch, every moistening fold.

“Holy crap, you're _amazing!_ ” Chloe heaved, teasing herself with shallow thrusts. Lucifer's voice was in her head again, moaning and groaning loud. “I love you so much, babe!” she gasped, wriggling and twisting.

 _Love – you, too – my horny Detective!_ he gasped.

“ _FUCK, I want you so bad! Mmmrrph!_ ”

 _Then, who am I to deny your most desperate desires?_ he purred. The feather was thrust hard inside her and she screamed.

“ _Yes, give it to me!_ ” she squealed into her pillow, thrusts fast and hard. She was yearning, chasing, and all the while pleasure roared and shivered. “Nnrrrgh! _You drive me crazy – I can't get enough of you!_ I want to have you every single night _– AAAAAHH!_ ” She was nearing her end. She pounded the quill into her, G-spot going super nova, the feather's downy barbs making her clit pulse and jump.

Her mind was warped, lost to another realm of reality. The end was so near, she was seconds from being catapulted into space.

And yet, when the elevator doors _pinged_ open, Chloe heard them perfectly.

“Detective! We really need to talk!!” Lucifer exclaimed, walking plainly into view, able to see all of her from just beyond the bar.

Chloe screamed. She dove under the comforter as fast as she could, with no regard for anything else.

Her arousal drained out of her like it had sprung a leak.

Her face became feverishly hot with her shame. Her ears felt like they were burning. Chloe sat in the dark cavern under the covers, arms wrapped around her knees and said nothing, willing herself to disappear, hating how the space filled up with the smell of her arousal.

“...Detective?” Lucifer eventually said, his voice sounding closer. Her head hung between her crossed arms, sweaty forehead pressed against them.

Not happening.

Nope.

Couldn't be.

If she didn't acknowledge it, it couldn't possible be real.

“Chloe...” Lucifer said gently, the sound seeming to come from right next to her. She hugged herself tighter.

The bed sagged and drooped a bit on her left side. He'd sat down next her.

“Chloe, darling...please don't hide. I'm not mad at you.”

She took in a deep breath. Her Lucifer didn't lie. Small comforts.

“On the contrary...I'm actually thrilled – but that's not going to make much sense from under my duvet. Come out from under there and let's talk.”

“ _I didn't want you to see me like this_ ,” she somehow managed to mutter back, ungluing her tongue from the roof of her mouth, in spite of the dryness.

“Oh, Chloe...” he murmured, and a weight settled on and around her shoulders. He was hugging her.

She couldn't decide whether this change was better or worse.

“Darling, _do not_ feel even the slightest bit of shame. All of this is...a result of a bit of a mishap on my part, actually...” he muttered, sidelong.

Chloe threw back the covers, emerging sweaty, naked, and furious.

“ _ **What did you do?!**_ ” she screamed, eyes bugging. Lucifer threw his hands up in surrender.

“ _It was an accident – I swear!! Had I known I would_ _ **not**_ _have asked you to groom me!!_ ” he said, in a panicked rush.

Chloe's expression morphed from one of anger to one of surprise.

“What does that have to do with this?”

“Well...love, the thing is...” Lucifer didn't quite want to meet her eyes, but looking askance meant staring at her exposed nipples far more than was acceptable in polite conversation, so he was forced to confront the Detective's raptor gaze directly.

“In...in having sex...with my wings out – and you, grooming them – we accidentally carried out something of an...angelic ritual – no, no that's not the right word...um, _vow!_ Angelic vow, yes, that suits it better!”

“What...what sort of vow?” Chloe asked, gasping in bewilderment. Lucifer bit his bottom lip, choosing to stare at the bed covers rather than anywhere near Chloe.

“...One of love...” he hazarded. The Detective was already shaking her head.

“It could not have been just a _love vow_ , Lucifer. I've been addicted to masturbating with _your feather_ for nearly three weeks-”

“Because you were going lust-mad since I wasn't – well, I haven't been satisfying you. We've only been having sex, not...not... _mating..._ ” He murmured the last word extra quiet, as if it might soften the blow.

Chloe's face went blank, eyebrows shooting up her forehead.

“ _Mating?_ ” she whispered, and that seemed to do the trick. Lucifer's speech blockage exploded, words pouring forth like a geyser.

“In having sex with my wings out – in you grooming them – in me _trusting_ you to groom them – in both of us having an orgasm and enjoying the whole affair, we completed an angelic rite. We're tied to each other now, mated. Our love has been declared in a physical, supernatural way, and you were going mad because we stopped. And the – uh-” he whipped around, rapidly searching. “Aha! The-” he reached over the side of the bed.

“The feather,” he said, sitting up with the slick-soaked thing in his hand “was a means of temporary, and dangerous, substitution. It could satisfy you as much as mating, but only for so long...” Lucifer was staring at the quill, turning it this way and that.

“I have to say, Chloe, that is an impressive amount of lubricant. How often were you ringing the Devil's doorbell?” he said, cracking a joke to ease the tension. Chloe's shocked laugh knocked her breathless.

“What?!”

“You know – biting the apple, diddling miss daisy, a _ménage à moi_...pleasuring yourself?”

“No, no, I figured that's what you meant but – what?! The Devil's doorbell?!”

“Honestly, of all the sins I've been given undo credit for and all the terminology I've been given, that's perhaps the sole one I'll tolerate – ringing up pleasure for all women, everywhere,” he said, grinning cheekily.

She appreciated his attempt at humor, she really did.

But then the desperate hours she'd spent frantically pressing that doorbell loomed large.

She was going for a laugh, but it came out as a sob.

“Doorbell or not, clearly it didn't summon you to help me...it ended up getting so bad: multiple times a day, recently...and as hard as I tried, _I couldn't stop myself..._ ”

All laughter drained from Lucifer's expression and his brow turned up with heart-wrenched pain.

“Oh Chloe...my love, I'm so sorry...”

He tossed aside the feather and embraced her, hard. The sensation of him squeezing her filled her very bones with relief.

“I wish I had known, Detective. I would've saved you a lot of hurt and confusion if I could have.”

“I know, Luci. I know you'd never mean to hurt me.” He chuckled, resting his cheek on her bed of jasmine-scented hair.

“Luci? You're trying out my brother's nickname for size?”

“Would you prefer if I didn't?”

“It's perfectly fine, Detective. I just...found it touching that you always seemed _determined_ to call me by my full name,” he said, laughing lightly.

“It started out as forced professionalism, I guess. But since then, it just – stuck,” she said with shrug, leaning back out of the hug, brow furrowing.

“So...if I were to groom you during sex again...everything would be fine?” Lucifer's expression drifted from happiness back down to anxious concern.

“Yes, and an occasional repetition of that should do the trick, but...the bigger point of contention is...how invested we are in this – in us. See, the trouble is, mating will only help alleviate all the longing and the, uh...pleasure fixation if...we care for each other equally.”

“Oh...” Chloe breathed, taken aback. “Well, I don't _think_ that will be a problem but-” Her speech stopped in its tracks at the sight of Lucifer's stuttering intake of breath.

“Chloe...there's something I need to say to you...” She sat up, pulse accelerating, and nodded, giving her partner her full attention.

Lucifer reached over and gently grasped her hands in his.

“Detective...there's no...comprehensive list I could compile that would do justice to all the changes for the better you've inspired in my life, so...I'll stick with that you have made me a better, more compassionate, more empathetic person than I would have believed possible. Your vulnerability, your willingness to give me a shot – pun not intended-” he muttered, pulling a giggle from her, “and be patient with me, be understanding, opened up my entire world. Everything I thought to be true has either been shattered completely or changed into something totally new because you encouraged me, and inspired me to...to find within me the ability to love. And that sort of gift, if you'll pardon my phrasing, is one that is unequaled, and precious beyond measure.

“I love you, Chloe Decker, and I've come to realize, I always will,” he concluded, with a smile.

Chloe could only gawk at her partner.

“Lucifer...I – I don't know what to say-”

“Just...tell me how you feel, Chloe. I'm invested in this, forever. What about you?” An effervescent, beaming smile crossed Chloe's face.

“Are you...are you proposing to me right now?” Lucifer grimaced.

“For the purposes of understanding if it's safe for us to mate, I told you where I stand with you.”

This threw her.

“After everything you just said...you wouldn't? There's no possible universe where'd want to marry me? Or – or is mating deeper than all that, actually? Marriage in the spiritual sense? Like, your Father doesn't need to be in the picture, it's just a promise between us?” Chloe speculated, gesticulating wildly.

“That's not an _in_ apt description – and no, I wouldn't _inherently_ be against a human marriage, just, maybe not a classically Christian one...”

“Lucifer, you're not making _any_ sense right now, and that is saying something,” Chloe said, her no-nonsense voice coming on strong.

Lucifer curled in on himself, pressing his forehead to her hands he'd clasped in his.

“ _I couldn't ask you..._ ” he murmured, forlorn and penitent.

Chloe blinked, trying to process this, expression becoming overwhelmed with concern.

“Lucifer...couldn't ask me what?”

He picked up his head.

“How could I ask you – a mortal woman with a single life – to be with me, a Celestial, forever?! How is that fair, how is that right? How could you possibly trust that I would be faithful after you're gone? How could I ask you to put yourself at risk for the rest of your time on Earth – you know trouble follows me everywhere! I couldn't ask you to spend the rest of your numbered days tied to me, love...”

Chloe looked deep into her partner's eyes, the river staring into the abyss, and leapt. She clutched his jaw, grip determined, and yet, so sweet.

“Because I've never felt this way about anyone, Lucifer. You have my complete faith, and my whole heart. I'd trust you with anything in a heartbeat – my job, my daughter, myself, _knowing_ that you have a reckless streak. And after all this time...I'm pretty damn sure there isn't going to be anyone else that even comes close to you...”

It took a full minute of breathing deeply and rooting through her words for Lucifer to process her meaning.

“Detective...you're really saying...?”

She smiled, brazen and sure.

“There's no one else I'd rather spend my 'limited time' with Lucifer. I love you.” Her eyes brightened, glimmering with joy. “I'm your partner. Your mate.”

And she had _the nerve_ to give him a one-shouldered shrug.

His heart exploded in his chest like fireworks.

“ _Chloe-_ ” he gasped, and he pushed them both to the sheets in his fervor, rolling them over, kissing his Detective adoring and deep.

“ _Lucifer!_ ” Chloe exclaimed, giggling both from dizzy elation and genuine rapture.

“Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, _Chloe!!_ ” He chanted her name between pecks, entwined in their embrace. “My darling, I love you _so_ much!”

“I love you, too, babe!”

“ _Mmmmph!_ ” He rewarded the pet name with a searing kiss that coaxed a lick of warmth from her center. “Just let me hear it once more, sweetheart. Say you're mine forever!”

“I'm yours forever, you ridiculous demon! Wings, and danger, and all – come Hell or high water!” she chortled, soul beaming, heart _thumping_ in beautiful tandem with his.

He rolled atop her with a fervent purr.

“ _Make love to me, Chloe,_ ” he panted, eyes glowing a fetching shade of golden-scarlet. Her grin broadened.

“How can I say no to consummating our Celestial marriage?” He growled and pulled her up into his lap, aroused sexes coming into contact in an electric spark of heated lust.

“ _Oh-ho-ho-hrrrmmmm_ – Chloe, my dear, fear not...if a proper wedding is what you're after just say the word...”

“Maybe,” she murmured, breathing shallow and lusty “Something to think about another day. For now, I have everything I could ever want...” she breathed, biting her lower lip, walls aching for more.

She bucked her hips, chasing friction, and Lucifer threw back his head, elated laugh morphing into a growl of lust. He seized her mouth, drinking in liquid, pliant kisses, feverishly hot and syrupy. It was like they were trying to swallow each other.

Hands scrambled, frantic, pulling and tugging at Lucifer's suit. His jacket went flying, pants were shucked off, vest tearing a bit along the seams. By the time he was left in nothing but boxers and his shirt, Chloe lost all patience and ripped off the garment, buttons clattering to the floor.

Her fingers dug deep into the flesh of that special spot at his back, his wings unfurling with a _snap_. Their hands were everywhere as their mouths kissed and sucked, licked and nibbled, teasing each other briefly before they lost control and Lucifer fell to sheets with Chloe.

She spread her legs wide, welcoming him in deep, his legs hooked over her own to achieve the perfect angle of entry.

They cried out when he slid inside with blissful ease, foreheads coming to rest together. They had so desperately wanted this contact, this friction. Even Lucifer, whose yearning hadn't been nearly as bad, sans some form of temptation, whined with delirious want.

“ _Chloe_...my darling you feel so, _so_ good...” She pecked the edge of his mouth, just barely missing his lips.

“Go...” Without further preamble, he began to thrust, not too absurdly strong or fast, but sure. Chloe's back arched into him as he collapsed against her, falling onto his forearms.

“ _Darling, you're exquisite!_ ” he keened, already nearing the edge from a few thrusts.

“My angel – I missed you – so much!” the Detective gasped between pants, making Lucifer's gut twist tighter with desire, persuading him to thrust faster, deeper. She threw her head back with a heavenly gasp.

“ _Yes Lucifer, just like that!_ Please don't hold back, I've wanted this for ages!” Her hands scampered up his back, reaching, rooting, and brushed through his gorgeous snow-and-ivory feathers. They alighted on his preen gland and stroked down, firm.

“ _FUCK!_ ” Lucifer swore, heaving, and he pounded into her, pace setting her G-spot off almost immediately. They screamed as they came, clutching each others shoulders. The release was cathartic, calming, healing almost. The desperate, lonesome time spent apart was over.

The ache in Chloe's chest vanished completely.

In minute or so, she'd caught her breath.

“Again...” she laughed, breathily, biting her bottom lip. Lucifer's eyes grew round and dark with adoration and desire.

“Chloe...my heaven-sent partner...” He kissed her deep and swung his legs back over her thighs, settling himself between her legs and let her up, assuming she would want to ride him next.

He wasn't entirely wrong.

“I want to try something...” The Devil quirked an impish eyebrow.

“Getting creative, are we, Detective?” Her answering kiss was honeyed, adorable.

“That feather's put more than one crazy fantasy in my head.” He suckled her bottom lip, growling.

“ _Hell_ yes, that's my Detective! Which one first?” She chuckled, smirking.

“That depends on how strong your wings are...”

“ _Detective!_ ”

In the end, they found a suitable position, with Lucifer crouched, his back arched, and his wings at rest, primary feathers laying on the duvet, but wings held parallel to one another, as if mid-flap.

“Sure I'm not too heavy?” Chloe asked, already short of breath from her perch astride Lucifer's wings. The downier feathers were already giving her the most pleasant, tickling bit of pleasure from just sitting atop them alone.

“Perfectly manageable, my love.”

“Do you mind if I preen you at the same time?” she breathed, already starting to hump his wings, moaning at the fluttering, stirring of pleasure at her center, fingers reaching just a foot or so behind her, and easily rubbing down his preen glands, spreading the oil through his feathers.

“ _CHLOE!_ ” the Devil moaned, tossing his head back, the wanton noise making her hips buck faster, reflexive. “Oh, my _Father_ – you're positively wonderful! Bloody Hell _you're going to be the death of me!!_ ”

He was panting, groaning, moaning as much and as loud as she. The feathers delivered beautiful, stuttering, fluttering bursts of pleasure as they always had, but it made all the difference in the world knowing she was pleasing him deeply at the same time, that their ecstasy was shared.

She bucked faster, stroked through his feathers more firmly, the rachi delivering delicious firm friction, a counterpoint to the downy barbs shimmering caresses.

“ _Fuck...yes!_ ” he said, voice high and thin.

“ _Luci! Your feathers are_ _ **perfect!**_ ” Chloe yelped, pleasure hitching higher and higher.

A dozen more hard humps, and she careened over the edge.

“ _OH MY ANGEL!_ ” she screamed throatily, pleasure pin-wheeling and shuddering through her mind. Lucifer collapsed onto hands and knees with a stuttering groan, spurting and releasing himself.

The moment Chloe felt she had strength enough in her legs to rise, she toppled off Lucifer's wings and onto the sheets, smiling dreamily. She turned her head, meeting Lucifer's equally winsome, happy smile.

“Chloe...I absolutely adore you, darling...”

“I love you, too,” she purred, scooting closer to kiss him. “Sorry for the mess...” she muttered, the slickness cooling between her legs a clear indication she'd likely left a large, sticky stain on his feathers.

“Are you kidding, Detective? It is an honor and a privilege to have my wings coated in a combination of preen oil and your sweet, feminine nectar. I'll never wash them again,” he said, smile beaming.

“NO! Don't you dare-!” Chloe yelped, grossed out and laughing.

“I want to wear your scent like a badge of honor, Detective. Show the entire Celestial world that you are _mine._ ”

Just like that, tight arousal seized Chloe's center again.

“I'm yours...” she breathed, pressing a kiss to his lips. He groaned into the contact, licking into her mouth.

“Another?” he asked when they parted to pant.

“Yes!” she exclaimed breathily, and he rolled them over with a happy whine.

They made love a great many times that night, each round more exquisite than the last. They'd occasionally rise for water or to clean up or have a bite to eat, but just as quickly, they'd fall back into each other's arms again. Chloe rode him with her back pressed to Lucifer's chest, her breasts cupped firm between his naughty, skilled fingers. He experimentally attempted to fuck her with his primary feathers, having seen her use the single one to penetrate herself.

He ended up releasing onto the sheets, her thighs, onto his own primary's vanes, from the mere sight of her eyes rolling back into her head from orgasm.

Lucifer held her up against the wall, thrusting hard and possessive. He licked her until she cried with joy and over-stimulation alike. She made him bend double against her as she sucked the soul out of him.

In the end, after a long, exquisite, debaucherous night, they were sitting cross-legged in the lotus, thrusting fast and shallow, jumping with their little humps, chasing just one last high.

“ _You're mine, Chloe!!_ ” Lucifer growled, eyes a glittering shade of scarlet “ _Mine forever, my mate, my love!_ ”

“ _And you're mine..._ ” Chloe heaved, guttural, eyes black with desire “ _My angel, to have and hold and love and fuck for the rest of my life!!_ ”

“ _ **YES! Fucking Hell, Chloe!**_ ” Lucifer swore, thrusting faster, if such was even possible.

“ _Ah-mmph-HA! Lucifer, I'm going to come!_ ” she shrieked, the high building to a monstrous, desperate point. He babbled, incoherent with agony.

“ _Come with me! Come with me, Chloe, let go sweetheart,_ _ **I can't-**_ ”

Their release was a simultaneous hit, a lightning strike. They'd shot over that peak so many times that night that this time went beyond pleasure, beyond mere consummation.

They transcended. They were one with the atoms and the dust and the stars, floating among nebulas and galaxies. The release was a glow, a hum, a continuous blaze of light that refused to die, refused to flee, simply held them in perfect suspension for a moment. In that fraction of a second, they were one and the same – shared the same breath, beat with the same heart, nerves sang with the same pleasure.

It was rapture. It was ecstasy.

Their bodies gave one vehement _heave_ , and they tumbled to the sheets together, completely and utterly spent. Loose feathers burst free of Lucifer's wings and tumbled down around them like freshly fallen snow, winking and glimmering in the half-light as they floated down in a glacially slow descent.

It was a long, long minute spent lying in their nest of feathers, savoring their afterglow, sheathed in sweat, catching their breath, before either spoke.

Lucifer reached for Chloe's hand, and kissed her knuckles.

“I love you, Chloe Decker...” he whispered, bone-weary, but incandescently happy. She grinned, trying to find the willpower within her to, eventually, rise and shower, and possibly bully her angel mate into showering as well. Perhaps agreeing to shower together might do the trick. Though she was certain both of them had completely bottomed out, a soothing massage might prove equally persuasive.

But for now, her whole world lay in his melted-chocolate eyes.

“And I love you, Lucifer Morningstar...”

“Forever?”

“Yes. I think forever will suit us just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> All comments and critiques are greatly appreciated! <3


End file.
